


Words We Said (In the Meadow Last Sunday)

by Moonlark



Series: Unspoken [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Confessions, Diary/Journal, James Neal owns a mountain lion, M/M, Pining, Possible Mental Health Issues, Slight Paranoia, Unrequited Love, Unsent Love Letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlark/pseuds/Moonlark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"October 17, 2013</p>
<p>Dear Paulie,</p>
<p>I love you.<br/>I just wanted to put it out there.</p>
<p>Love,<br/>James"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nealer can't bring himself to talk to Paulie abut his feelings. When he can't hold them in anymore, he gets a black leather bound notebook and writes down everything he wishes he could tell Paulie, in the hope that someday, maybe he will.</p>
<p>The following is a series of excerpts from that notebook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words We Said (In the Meadow Last Sunday)

_I've been waiting at your door._  
 _How can you bear what it's for,_  
 _To keep me out and end where this has led?_

_Promises that we have made,_  
 _Oaths that we would never fade,_  
 _The words just keep resounding in my head._

* * *

 

October 12, 2013

Dear Paulie,

I wish I could tell you how I feel about you. I've felt like this since I first met you, but lately it's been getting worse. Or is that better? I don't know; I've never felt this way with any other person. I see you every day again, which feels so right after the torturously long summer. And you - every day you look so good, so happy and strong and sure, and I feel like I'm falling. You're there, so close and yet too far away, and I just can't keep it all inside of me anymore.

I guess that's why I'm doing this. I can't talk about it, and writing about it is the next best thing. It feels like sharing without the pain of actually sharing.

But someday, if it works out, I want to be able to look back on this and show you these words. I want you to see that I love you. I think I always have, and I know I always will. 

Even if it doesn't work out, I still want to be able to remember it. If this is all I'm going to get, then I want to write it all down so I don't forget a single bit of it.

Even if I can't have you, these small moments of your companionship are too precious to waste.

Love,  
James

* * *

  

October 17, 2013

Dear Paulie,

I love you.  
I just wanted to put it out there.

Love,  
James

* * *

  

October 25, 2013

Dear Paulie,

Since I'm only starting this now, and I have memories of you that I want to keep safe forever, there are gonna be some flashbacks. I hope you don't mind. It's just... I want you to know that this didn't start just a few days ago. It's not a passing fancy. It's been _years_ , Paulie. If it hasn't faded through all that time of watching and waiting and yearning, then it's not going to fade now. 

So... I guess I should start with the first time I saw you. That would pe the first practice, when I was meeting the team. Sure, I'd seen some of you guys on the ice, I knew some faces, but I didn't know anyone there as a person besides Nisky. I even felt like a stranger, like I  wouldn't recognize myself. 

That day, standing awkwardly in the lockerroom door, I was almost scared to face my new team. I was a bit starstruck to be meeting _Sidney Crosby_ and _Evgeni Malkin_. But when I looked, the first person I noticed wasn't Sid or G or any of the others. I saw you first. You were sitting there, laughing at something G had said, and then you looked up, and you looked at me, and you _smiled_. 

At that moment, I was a goner. Something clicked right then, something inside of me that said that this was right, and here was where I belonged, with you. 

Of course, my play didn't quite click, and I do admit to having a few panic attacks about getting traded and being forced to leave you. 

But I'm still here, Paulie. I'm waiting for you. I always will be.

Even if I have to wait forever.

Love,  
James

* * *

 

November 1, 2013

Dear Paulie,

I wanted to tell you that the zombie/zombie hunter costume pairing was genius. I probably didn't look very nice (after all, zombies aren't supposed to look nice) but you looked great. The badass jeans and the ripped t-shirt and the bandana and the boots, they all were amazing on you. You wore the costume perfectly. 

You should carry a crossbow more often.

Love,  
James

* * *

 

November 9, 2013

Dear Paulie,

When you're happy, it's great. When you're sad, it's not, but it's still better than you not being here at all. 

Of course, I'm always sad, but that's nothing new. I've been feeling like this for so long that... well, I'll never be used to it, but I've gotten pretty good at hiding it. This is about the only thing I can hide. I wouldn't go so far as to call it depression, just... love induced sadness. 

I guess you could call it pining.

But here, now, sitting in your living room, relaxing on your couch, with the TV on mute and a mug full of coffee in my hand and the rain pounding on the windowpanes and you, leaning against me, steady and comforting, I feel like I'm _home_ , and I can't think of a time I've been more content.

Thank you, Paulie, for the company you let me keep.

Love,  
James

* * *

 

November 29, 2013

Dear Paulie,

I know you've probably gotten tired of being told to get better soon, but I'm going to say it anyway. It hurts so much, seeing you like this, bored, with your leg in a cast and a sour taste in your mouth. I really want you to get better soon, because then you'll be happier. 

But Paulie, you can't keep trying to take care of me. You need to be resting up, and I feel kind of bad that you're still making breakfast for me. I'm a grown-ass man (and I just know you'd be laughing at that bit) but still. It's not like I'm gonna die if you look away for ten seconds.

Although I suppose it's better than you not caring.

Just get better soon, okay, Paulie?

Love,  
James

* * *

 

December 11, 2013

Dear Paulie,

Suspensions are awful. I guess that's why they're given. I mean, it's only five games, but that's five games too many, and it's all because of something stupid I did. I watched a replay of it, and it wasn't right. I've gotta keep myself from doing shit like that. 

But anyway, suspensions suck. They make you feel awful, because it was stupid shit you did. It isn't someone else's fault, like most injuries. You're out because you fucked up bigtime.

Elisa's helping, but not playing somehow leads my mind wandering back to Fang. I miss him... he was like family. Sometimes I tell that to people, and they look at me like, how could you consider a 180 pound male cougar with long claws and fangs that could rip out your throat family? But you knew Fang, you knew how calm he really was, what a lazy cougar he turned out to be. You remember how we used to wrestle with him and we had to take it easy on him so he wouldn't start coughing. People say cougar, I see friend, family.

But he's gone. 

God, I feel like something's gone wrong within me, in my head, like a snag in a wool sweater. It's that one thread that's out of place, protruding from the fabric, just a little bit, but your fingers find it every time, and you keep worrying at it, pushing it back into place but it doesn't stay, and pulling at it but it won't budge. And then finally you yank really reeeaallly hard and the thread comes out, and that feels good, but you're left with a hole in the middle of the sweater. 

I don't want a hole in my mind sweater, Paulie. I don't think I could bear it. 'Cause it's one hole, then another, and the holes keep growing and then there are rips, and pretty soon the whole garment's getting tossed in the trash and you buy a new one 'cause the old one got too worn out to wear. It was just one big rag. 

But you know how to mend some small holes, right? Didn't you say your mom taught you sewing and that shit? If you can, Paulie... 

I might need some help with the holes in my mind sweater. 

Love,  
James

* * *

 

[ _Undated_ ]

Dear Paulie,

I miss you. It hurts, road trips when you're not here. I'm always a little nervous, glancing over my shoulder, and somehow you manage to keep me feeling safe. But now, you aren't here, and I keep feeling like something's watching me. I'm scared, Paulie. There's something there, and no one else can see it.

I can't wait to come home and see you. 

Love,  
James


End file.
